Whispers from The House of Secrets

ON WRITING, EDITING AND SELLING

2012-02-18T12:06:00.002-05:00

(OR STRUGGLING, CHOPPING AND SHILLING)

ON WRITING: As I’ve often explained, I’m not a prolific writer. I have to really work at it. Oh, sometimes it just flows, but more often than not I have to really nurse it along. Part of my problem is the self-editing I do as I write, changing words and phrasing as I go, over and over and over again. While the end results is always for the better, it eats up a lot of time and concentration as I hunt and peck at words, trying to find just the right one. I should probably just go through, write a quick first draft without stopping to edit, and then go back and give it a good reworking. But that’s just not the way I work. I know some authors actually HAND write their first drafts and then go back and type everything in! God bless them! Besides the fact that I probably wouldn’t have a clue as to what my scribbling SAID by the time I was done, I would probably never actually FINISH anything that way. I have a hard enough time bringing a story to full fruition as it is – just peek inside my IN PROGRESS file on my PC and you’ll see loads of stories in various stages – some dating back to the 1980’s. Eh, I’ll get to them eventually!

I am in awe of writers who know their entire story at the jump – beginning, middle and end. I usually get a neat little idea and have to work back and forward from that point. I don’t outline, although I make lots of notes on character names, bits of cool dialogue, scenes, background info, etc. My biggest ordeal is bringing a story to a good, logical conclusion. It has to make sense to me – to feel “true” -- and as I create in the horror/weird/dark genre(s) things don’t always MAKE sense. We (purveyors of the weird) expect our audience to have a healthy suspension of belief, but you can’t push that one TOO far. If it sounds dumb, contrived or over the top it probably is (and who the hell thought twinkling vampires would be cool, by the way?!). That’s one of the reasons I’ve never been a fan of science fiction – if it’s too far out there or removed from truth and reality I just can’t BELIEVE it enough to get into the story. I guess that’s why horror resonates with me so deeply – there is always some shadow of truth in every iconic horror situation.

In any event, I am now sitting on two more incomplete, unsold stories. I was working on something for a Cyberpunk Cthulhu Mythos anthology and just could not make it work. I had what I thought was a really cool idea, but again, I think it was the sci fi elements of the genre that I just couldn’t get my head around enough to make it work. The other was a neat little character sketch I wanted to submit to an upcoming anthology with a fungus theme. That one I’m sure I’ll finish and think I have a new market for it already, so I just have to get cracking. And in the meantime, there are two new additions to my IN PROGRESS file – a Steampunk Cthulhu Mythos story and one for consideration in a forthcoming S.T. Joshi anthology. Again, I just have to get tucked in and finish the damn things!

ON EDITING: Meanwhile, I’m busy reading for my next anthology – a werewolf book entitled MARK OF THE BEAST. I never go too public with my call for submissions, but somehow this one got leaked to a site that directs prospective authors to markets. Wow! I’m getting buried in submissions. Unfortunately most of them are just not very good. That isn’t to say that I haven’t gotten some good stuff – I have. I’ve gotten a couple REALLY good pieces, but the majority have been poor to mediocre. I understand that every writer has to start somewhere, so I’m trying to be patient and supportive, but I have a few words of advice for aspiring authors:

1. Spell check! EVERY word processing program has a spell checker. Use it. I can overlook an occasional typo but some are just ridiculous. PLEASE know the difference between “to”, “too” and “two” and “there” and “their”, and know the proper uses thereof! That’s BASIC English, and if you can’t handle that you have no business writing.

2. Punctuation, people! There are more punctuation marks than commas, so branch out a little and mix it up. A high school English teacher once told me I was “comma happy”, so I understand whereof I speak. Semicolons can be your friends. And watch the exclamation points – I also tend to use WAY too many of them (well, in my e-mails and blogs – I almost NEVER use them in fiction). Using !!! too much makes you sound like a simpleton who is surprised by EVERYTHING!

3. Character names: don’t use similar names for different characters – it gets confusing. And PLEASE, for the love of god, don’t overuse names with the “Sam did this,” “Sam said,” “Sam went here,” “Sam thought,” “Sam was,” “Sam said,” “Sam said,” “Sam said again”, etc. Use descriptives to signify Sam as well as just his name. Mix it up. I’ve gotten a LOT of submissions that fall prey to this one and I want to scream after reading the same name over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over…. Well, you get it.

4. And finally, PLEASE follow the editor’s guidelines for submissions. I have VERY CLEARLY stated the format in which I want to see submissions, and still I get a LOT that do not follow my instructions. So I have decided (and have posted) that from now on if I get a submission that is not formatted as I requested I am going to just immediately reject it. I’m sorry, and I may be missing out on some good work, but if you don’t have enough respect to follow my simple submission instructions then you must not be truly serious about it.

So, all that said, I’ve been busy wading through a lot of werewolf stories. So far I have about a dozen in my YES file, a dozen in my MAYBE file, and I’ve rejected* DOZENS and as of today still have a dozen to read through. And my deadline is not for many weeks yet, so at this rate I expect I’ll get in another 40 submissions or more. It’s exciting to find new voices and annoying to read dreck, but I understand you can’t have one without the other. But I wholly understand why most editors have closed anthologies and read on an invite-only basis.

(*And let me say that every story I’ve so far rejected hasn’t been bad – some just weren’t original enough or just didn’t catch my attention or fit my vision of the project for one reason or another.)

And therein lies the double-edged sword of writing and editing: the perceived cliquiness of it. When I started out writing I was pissed about the number of projects that were invite-only. But as I’ve honed my craft, made a quasi-name for myself and done editing of my own anthologies by reading slush piles, I UNDERSTAND. Most editors are very busy people who also write, and I can tell you from firsthand experience that reading submissions cuts into a lot of writing time if you are going to give each submissions a fair read. Therefore, most editors have a stable of authors they work with whom they know are good, reliable and easy to work with. I have my own list that I always send out to first before making any kind of open call. It’s just the way the industry is. So how do you break into these cliques? Just persevere. And be GOOD at your craft. You only get one chance to make a first impression (a sad but very true old saying), so if the first story an editor reads by you is amateurish or crap they will likely not even bother with your stuff in the future. But making a name for yourself in small press and on-line markets can go a long way in getting the attention of editors. Some of our greatest authors – and a couple of my personal favorites – started in the small press way back in the mists of time in the 1980’s (before the interwebs) and today have near-mythic reputations.

ON SELLING: And finally, I’ve recently placed a couple more stories. My “Mother Blood” will be appearing in the forthcoming UNDEAD & UNBOUND anthology. If the title didn’t say it loudly enough, U&U is a collection of stories about walking dead of various persuasions. It’s got a really fun cover, and [SPOILER] my undead menace is one of the ones that graces the cover. Fun.

The other sale I’m really proud to announce is a weird little dark fairy tale thing I co-wrote with my pal, the sickeningly-talented T.E. Grau, called “Ignis Fatuus.” This one is a part of the fabulous Lois Gresh-edited DARK FUSIONS anthology which is to be published in a wonderfully signed hardcover edition by PS Publishing next winter. This story was a blast to write. I am amazed still how well my work meshes with Teds – you really can’t tell who wrote what. It was a fantastic partnership forged in the cauldron of weird things and magical notions.

From Lois' blog (http://loisgresh.blogspot.com/2012/02/dark-fusions-where-monsters-lurk.html):

DARK FUSIONS: WHERE MONSTERS LURK

In no particular order, these are the contributors to DARK FUSIONS: WHERE MONSTERS LURK.

Cody Goodfellow

Nicholas Kaufmann

Mark McLaughlin

Darrell Schweitzer

Robert M. Price

Ann Schwader

Lynn Spitz

James Alan Gardner

Michael Marano

Lisa Morton

Nick Cato

John Haefele

Christopher Fulbright

David Sakmyster

Yvonne Navarro

Nancy Kilpatrick

Scott David Aniolowski & T.E. Grau

Norman Prentiss

We have a great lineup and some terrific stories in this anthology.

Abundant thanks to Weird Fiction Master ST Joshi and Fantastic Publisher Pete Crowther!

Lois

“Ignis Fatuus” was actually earmarked for another anthology but I sold it to Lois when she wanted to buy my “Letters to Santa” story for DARK FUSIONS. Unfortunately, I had already placed "Letters to Santa" in HORROR FOR THE HOLIDAYS. So it worked out well, and she got a really cool little thing. Ted and I are presently working on something ELSE for that other anthology. Interestingly enough, I’ve since had ANOTHER request to publish “Letters to Santa” by another pair of editors! Guess this one is going to have a life of its own. But I’m doing something new for them – I just hope they like it as much as they liked “Letters."

So, the last year has been pretty good – I’ve sold four stories, have another two (at least) with homes to go to, and am in the process of editing my SECOND anthology in twelve months. Now if I could only WRITE a bit quicker, I’d be all set….

Until next time from the House of Secrets,

Meet me tonight in dreamland
Meet me tonight in dreamland
Where the things I want will come true
For in dreamland they always do
So meet me tonight in dreamland
Meet me on the path of green
Where nightmares disappear in dreams
Sleeping as one
Flowered river carries us down
To dreamland

HAPPY HOLIDAYS FROM THE HOUSE OF SECRETS

2011-12-24T13:53:00.001-05:00

Today is Christmas Eve and the mid-way point of Hanukkah, and the New Year looms. So I wanted to take a moment to ruminate on the holidays and to offer some thoughts and a message.

I celebrate the holiday in pretty typical fashion, with family, Christmas cookies, and gifts under the tree. I make it a point to enjoy Dickens’ classic “A Christmas Carol” every year, in either written or movie form. I overindulge in shopping and snacking on holiday treats, as most of the world does. And I stop to remember Christmases of old (well, of my own old, anyway). Memories of beloved grandparents no longer with me, and a father who has passed on some ten years ago. Memories of favorite gifts – both given and received. Memories of working the busy season alongside friends and coworkers, providing good food and cheer to those who hired us to provide them a holiday party. Memories of snow and of favorite holiday decorations. Memories of the smells of the holidays: seasonal treats baking, turkey roasting, the heady scent of pine boughs and the mustiness of ornaments retrieved from storage.

I stopped decorating my own home many years ago, as being alone it seemed so much work just for me. But I still enjoy putting up the tree with my mother at her house, and going through all of our yearly traditions of decorating and baking. In my childhood we spent Christmas Eve at my mother’s parent’s home, exchanging gifts with them and the extended family and feasting on holiday snacks and then lasagna late in the evening after gifts were open. Christmas morning was Christmas at home with mom and dad and my brother, and then the afternoon and evening was spent at my father’s parent’s home, opening gifts from them and having the traditional turkey dinner. My parents divorced and my paternal grandparents moved to Florida when I was in grade school, so the family schedule changed, and Christmas Eve was split between my dad’s house and then the maternal grandparents’, and Christmas day was spent wholly at home. Today the grandparents and dad are all gone, so the holidays are much smaller and quieter: I spend Christmas Eve with mom, preparing for Christmas dinner and eating Chinese food, and then my brother and his family come the next morning for Christmas breakfast and to exchange gifts before heading to his wife’s family’s celebration. Mom and I spend the rest of Christmas day together, have a quiet dinner and watching a movie. While I miss those who have gone – especially this time of the year – and the shrinking of the holiday celebrations, I truly love the time and traditions we share.

I know that I often present myself as a gloomy, unhappy soul, especially here and elsewhere on-line, but truly I am not. Those who truly know me know that I'm warm and loving, gregarious, very funny with a quick wit and sharp tongue, and loyal to a fault. I am blessed with a good life, a beautiful home, and a small but loyal and loving band of friends and family. This past year has been trying on the job front, and it has beaten me down a number of times, but I manage to pick myself up and be happy that I have the people and things I have in my life, and that I have been able to make it through, despite the lack of employment and financial squeeze. Somehow or other all of the bills still get paid, there’s food in the kitchen and gas in my car, so I guess I’m okay. Certainly I hope that the new year brings a resolution to this employment problem, and I’m remaining hopeful that something good is headed my way.

So, in uncharacteristically mushiness, I’d like to wish the very, very best to everyone at this joyous season, and for the coming year. And some special thanks and cyberhugs go to an assortment of folks, in no particular order: my brother and his wife and daughter, Amanda – my little bird who has somehow grown into a young college woman (when the hell did THAT happen?)! My mom who is my strength and support and my anchor. My best and oldest pal, Kevin, who is like a brother. My other two Brothers of Darkness, Fred and Gary (Gary we missed you this year at the Gathering Darkness). My friends and students of the word, Tom and Oscar over at Miskatonic River Press. My dearest friend, my angel of light, Terri whom I owe a bunch of lunches! My friend and writing partner, Ted, whose thoughts and style mesh so well with mine that I think we share a brain! Dr. D. who keeps me grounded and moving in the right direction. Cognac and Holly, my feline companions and “children”. The B-52s, my all-time favorite band, who I was delighted to see live this summer (just blocks from my house!) and who I was thrilled to correspond with throughout the autumn! And to anyone I overlooked, my sincerest apologies.

As we move into the New Year I wish incalculable good wishes and prosperity for everyone, myself included (come on, good job, come on!!!). I face 2012 with a schedule full of stories promised to various editors and markets and numerous publications forthcoming. I’m helping an up-and-coming author assemble his first fiction collection, and am thrilled to be in on the ground floor of what I know is going to be a NAME in the industry. I have projects in the works for at least one publisher, with feelers and queries out for others. And I’m actually waiting to hear on a couple possible employment opportunities. So I think the coming year is going to be good, and that certain unfortunate aspects of 2011 are going to soon turn around. So I raise a glass to bid farewell to 2011 and anxiously await all the good things coming in 2012. Happy Holidays!

Until next time from the House of Secrets,

And to all a good night….

(Well, I had to include SOMETHING creepy! Happy Holidays!)

Werewolves of London (and Other Places, Too!)

2011-12-09T23:16:00.003-05:00

*****PLEASE BE SURE TO READ MY GUIDELINES CLOSELY AND ONLY SUBMIT MATERIAL IN THE FORMAT I AM ASKING FOR -- SUBMISSIONS NOT IN THE REQUESTED FORMAT WILL BE REJECTED WITHOUT BEING READ*****

I've just sold a new anthology pitch, and here's the prospectus to get a jump-start on. Gentlemen (and ladies), start your enzymes!

MARK OF THE BEAST

New Legends of the Werewolf

Edited by Scott David Aniolowski

Author and Editor Scott David Aniolowski is now accepting submissions for MARK OF THE BEAST; New Legends of the Werewolf, an anthology of werewolf tales to be published in late 2012 by Chaosium, Inc.

Werewolves have recently become very big in pop culture, thanks to the popularity of certain young adult novels and their movie adaptations. Unfortunately, our lycanthropic friends are now being portrayed as pouty, angsty, shirtless hunky teens, instead of savage, bestial figures from folklore and nightmares. It is my goal to assemble stories that put the horror back into the werewolf.

There are countless variations on the werewolf legend from around the world and throughout history. The more common causes for lycanthropy include being bitten by a wolf or werewolf, cursed by a Gypsy or witch, a family curse, donning an enchanted pelt, imbibing potions or poisons, selling your soul to the devil, falling from religious grace, etc. Some werewolves change from human to giant wolf – some to hybrid wolf-men. And the infliction strikes at various times, depending upon the legend: during a full moon, while under great emotional stress, when the pelt is worn or potion drank – or even at will – etc. Some werewolves are aware of their condition and remember everything when they change – others have no knowledge whatsoever, or experience memories as “nightmares”. Some are solitary – others live in packs. Silver kills some werewolves but not all. Clinical Lycanthropy is a real mental disorder wherein the sufferer believes he or she is a werewolf. And so on….

I want authors to explore different legends and aspects of the werewolf stories, and just about any genre is acceptable (Gothic horror, quiet horror, sci-fi, cyberpunk, splatter, psychological, Victorian London, the old west, folklore/urban legend, etc. -- NO HUMOR -- SERIOUS HORROR STORIES ONLY!) as long as the underlying theme is HORROR! Pop culture has turned the werewolf into dreamy poster boys and romance novel figures (don’t believe me? Browse Amazon.com and see for yourself how many werewolf romance novels there are!). I want to give the werewolf his balls back! I want to make him a figure of terror and nightmares again.

HERE'S THE IMPORTANT PART: Send submissions in MS Word doc. or rtf. files. Basic formatting: single spaced, aligned left, no tabs (a space between paragraphs ONLY), no page numbering, no headers or footers, etc. Considering short-shorts/flash fiction up to 8,000ish words. Poetry is okay, as well. Reprints will be considered only if they have previously appeared in very limited run publications (indicate previous publication along with date and approximate circulation). Payment is 3 cents a word for new works (possibly less for reprints), and 3 contributor copies of the published book. Publication will be in trade paperback format with an estimated release of late 2012. Deadline for submissions is May 1, 2012. DO NOT SEND ME RUN-OF-THE-MILL, STANDARD OR TYPICAL WEREWOLF STORIES. I WANT TO SEE SOMETHING NEW AND FRESH AND EXCITING!

E-mail to: Olantern1@aol.com

Until next time from the House of Secrets,

Good Writing!

WRITE? RIGHT!

2011-11-16T13:59:00.000-05:00

Happily, I can announce that two of my stories have found homes in forthcoming anthologies. I’m also working on three more stories, am finishing up an RPG book, have successfully pitched a collection by an up-and-coming author, and am about to pitch another anthology. I have three or four outstanding invites to contribute to forthcoming books, and am hoping to submit to them all. Fingers crossed, all around! Seems like it’s a good time for my writing. Don’t know whether the stars are right or I’m just spending more time working at it (likely a combination of both), but things are going really well. As I’ve mentioned before, writing does not come easily to me, and when it does come it comes in streaks, so I take full advantage when its running hot. I really enjoy it and just wish it were lucrative enough to support me, as the depressing and soul-crushing search for “real” employment continues to plod along fruitlessly.

So here are the contents of the two latest books to use my stories:

HORROR FOR THE HOLIDAYS

A HORROR ROSH CHODESH “The Tomb of Oscar Wilde” by W.H. Pugmire

HORRORS OF VALENTINE’S DAY “Love and Darkness” by Oscar Rios “Be Mine” by Brian Sammons

A HORROR OF PASSOVER

“Cthulhu Mhy’os” by Lois H. Gresh

HORRORS OF EASTER

“And the Angels Sing” by Cody Goodfellow “The Last Communion of Allyn Hill” by Pete Rawlik “Mrs. Spriggs’ Easter Attire” by Joseph S. Pulver Sr. and Tara VanFlower “Season of Sacrifice and Resurrection” by Adrian Tchaikovsky

A HORROR OF MOTHER’S DAY “Mother’s Night” by Ann K. Schwader

HORRORS OF THE FOURTH OF JULY “Free Fireworks” by T.E. Grau “Doc Corman’s Haunted Palace One Fourth of July” by Don Webb

A HORROR OF VJ DAY “Translator” by James Robert Smith

HORRORS OF HALLOWEEN “Hallowe’en in a Suburb” by H.P. Lovecraft “The Hindmarsh Abomination” – or – “Moonday” by Will Murray “The Trick” by Ramsey Campbell

A HORROR OF THE DAY OF THE DEAD “El Dia De Los Muertos” by Kevin Ross

A HORROR OF GUY FAWKES NIGHT “Treason and Plot” by William Meikle

A HORROR OF REMEMBERANCE DAY “The Dreaming Dead” by Joshua Reynolds

A HORROR OF THANKSGIVING “Entrée” by Donald R. Burleson

HORRORS OF YULE “Keeping Festival” by Mollie Burleson “Wassail” by Tom Lynch

HORRORS OF CHRISTMAS “Krampusnacht” by Joshua Reynolds "Christmas Eves of Aunt Elise: A Tale of Possession in Old Grosse Pointe” by Thomas Ligotti “Letters to Santa” by Scott David Aniolowski “Keeping Christmas” by Michael G. Szymanski “The Nativity of the Avatar” by Robert M. Price

This one should be out by the end of this year.

And then there’s:

UNDEAD & UNBOUND William Meikle "Descanse En Paz" Gary McMahon "Dead Baby Keychain Blues" Cody Goodfellow "Blind Item" Mercedes Murdock Yardley "A Personal Apocalypse" Damien Walters Grintalis "When Dark Things Sleep" John Goodrich "In the House of a Million Years" C.J. Henderson "Undead Night of the Undeadest Undead" David Dunwoody "Incarnate" Tom Lynch "The Wreckers" David Schembri "The Unforgiving Court" Robert M. Price "I am Legion" Robert Neilson "Marionettes" Pete Rawlik "North of the Arctic Circle" Brian M. Sammons & David Conyers “Romero 2.0” Gustavo Bondoni “Thunder in Old Kilpatrick” Scott David Aniolowski “Mother Blood” Glynn Owen Barrass “Phallus Incarnate” Oscar Rios “Scavengers” Mark Allan Gunnells “The Unexpected"

Which is supposed to be out in the first part of 2012. The idea of Undead & Unbound was stories that used the undead in some different way. I don’t know as mine is necessarily different or “unbound” beyond that it uses a very obscure member of the walking dead, and there is a sort of “surprise” ending. But the editors liked it enough to choose to include it, so they must have thought it fit. As I’ve not read any of the rest of these stories, I’m really looking forward to seeing the published book.

Next are stories for a cyberpunk book, a western horror book and a Thomas Ligotti tribute. Neither the cyberpunk nor western themes are my typical gigs, and I have very little interest in either genre, so this is going to be a challenge for me. But I have solid ideas for both, and am particularly excited about my cyberpunk idea. I have an amazingly talented co-writer for the Ligotti tale, and it’s a sort of dark, twisted fairy tale sort of thing. THAT one is going to be a blast.

So, I guess I better get back to work on some of these unfinished projects – they aren’t going to write themselves.

Until next time from the House of Secrets,

Somebody's crying now
His head is full of pain
Take him to the building
where they're playing the perfect game
Perfect game
Perfect game
He's standing at the window
to watch the falling rain
No matter how he sees it
the view remains the same
Perfect game
Perfect game
They don't know what to call him
He doesn't have a name
But they still know how to force him
to keep playing the perfect game
A set of perfect criminals
is hard to criticize
When your watching the perfect crime
through a pair of perfect eyes
Perfect eyes
Perfect eyes
When everybody else is simply wondering why we came
Maybe it's because we're all playing the perfect game
Perfect game
Perfect game
They don't know what to call us
Because we don't have a name
But they still know how to force us
to keep playing the perfect game
So if you want to find out why you call someone insane
Just sit inside the building where they're playing the perfect game

The Voice

2011-10-19T22:39:00.001-04:00

So I’ve probably mentioned before that I am not a fast writer; that I am not prolific writer. That’s not to say that I can’t write fast or that I can’t be prolific. If the mood takes me and I’m inspired the sky’s the limit – I can crank out thousands of words at a time and burn through a project in a couple days. And if the mood doesn’t take me and I’m not inspired… well, it might be a year or more between significant work. That’s just the way my personal muse works. He or she is moody, fickle little fucker, and when not in the mood to play forget it – there’s no forcing it. I suppose there are “techniques” I could practice to help me produce more words, but my experience has always been that when I force it all I get is a lot of crap, and it’s a long, tedious, and painful process to get that.

But, I can do the editing, assembling and copy work on the works of others pretty much any time, and therein I get an abundance of pleasure and reward. There’s nothing like soliciting the work of an author and waiting for that story or poem to come in (used to be in the mail – that was extra exciting because there’d be a big envelope or package that I knew contained something fun – e-mail and attached files just aren’t the same, sadly; they smack of drudgery and office work and not the fabulous creation of some talented wordsmith).

Sometimes a story is godawful, and I feel like I’ve wasted a part of my life that I’ll never get back. But I learn who tends to produce the stuff I don’t like, and they don’t usually get invited back to future book projects. Worse maybe are those pieces that are just okay; they are competently written and might be decent stories, but they don’t solicit any excitement out of me or bring me to any heights of ecstasy (or depths of despair for bad work). Sometimes reading bad work is better than reading just average stuff because at least I can be brought to loathing of a work – I may have wasted some time, but at least I felt something! And then, on those rare occasions, I find that sparkling gem. And that is really exciting.

I don’t know how to truly explain the excitement of reading something fantastic that an author has written specifically for me. It is like I’ve somehow had some tiny influence on a masterpiece; it might be a bigger thrill than writing something really good of my own. It doesn’t happen often. If I’m lucky I’ll get one or two fantastic pieces for a book, the rest being hopefully good stories and maybe a few acceptables just to fill it out. And the thrill of finding a masterpiece is compounded when the author is a new guy or gal. Discovering that new voice – that’s what every editor secretly hopes for – to be able to say “so-and-so had his first story published in one of my books!” To help to usher in a young new talent is an editor’s dream – or mine, at least.

Once I’ve found my jewel I have to decide where in the book it’s going to go. Assembling a collection of stories is like composing a piece of music; there is a flow and a rhythm to it. The works have to come together to create the right feel for the book. Of course, the kick in the head about all of this is that I would guess that most people don’t read a fiction collection in order, but jump around from story to story, probably starting with familiar names and moving on from there. It’s too bad – we editors do put a great deal of thought into the placement of stories in a book. But I’m a hypocrite – I jump around when I read, too. But I do take note of the arrangement of stories and try to see the editor’s bigger picture. Eh, what are you gonna do?

I’ve been exceptionally fortunate with the handful of anthologies I’ve had the pleasure of assembling. I’ve had the chance to work with and become friends with some pretty big names and a bunch of great new folks – I’m still in awe sometimes when I look through my list of contacts and phone numbers. And I’ve seen a few really brilliantly-talented people come through, some of whom went on to bigger things and others faded away. That’s another hazard of the industry – sometimes someone does only have one good story in them. Or frequently the more brilliant talents carry a lot of baggage and just can’t produce much for one reason or another. It’s too bad, really, but I fully understand, although make no claims to brilliance or exceptional talent… but I do understand baggage!

So I take solace – and inspiration – from the talented, talented authors who willingly create something special for me when I ask them. So if I can’t be Mr. Prolific with my own writing, at least I can enjoy the creations of other gifted scribes who answer my calls and take joy and pride in the books I put together and the occasional new voice I find and help bring to the world.

Until next time from the House of Secrets,

Sweetly the voices decay

Draw on the lines that they say

I’ve lost it once before

Now it cries to me

Turn Your Watch Back

2011-09-29T12:04:00.002-04:00

To a time of prosperity. I wish we could.

I’m angry. Really angry. And I’m going to spew a political rant, so hang on.

I’ve been out of work for over a year now, except for two and a half months in the spring. I lost my job of over nine years because my position was eliminated, and not because of any indiscretion on my part. I’m really good at what I do, and have 30 years of hands-on experience. I’m dedicated and hardworking – hell, at that job in the spring I helped open a brand new hotel, and I moved in and LIVED there for a week to get it open! How many people are willing to LIVE at work? But the hotel and restaurant industry tends to be pretty volatile – restaurants come and go pretty quickly, and hotels change ownership like you change socks. So at the time I thought no big deal – I’ve been out of work before, but never for more than a few weeks. Something ALWAYS comes along. In fact, I usually turn job offers down – people have always come to me – I’ve never had to go searching for work. But times have changed. Over the past year I’ve sent out well over 100 resumes: I think I’ve heard back from 15 or 20 of them. Maybe. Either I have too much experience or my experience doesn’t “fit” what the company is looking for (huh?), or its some sleazy establishment wanting me to work for cash off the books or for some pittance and stay on unemployment. I may be many things, but I’m not a crook (did I just hear Nixon’s voice?).

The American economy is in the toilet. I’ve never in my life personally known more people out of work. The government keeps bailing out these banks and car companies with MY money, and yet I can’t find a job. Where’s MY bailout? I’m okay – the wolves are not at the door – but I don’t like just getting by. I don’t like having to tap into whatever little savings and investments I have to cover those extras that show up now and again, like medical bills or car insurance. I don’t like not being able to put anything back into savings and investments (which aren’t worth a crap these days, anyway. I can’t even admit to how much I’ve lost due to the “unfortunate downturn in the market”). And yet there are people – individuals – who make hundreds of thousands of dollars a year or MORE in annual salaries and “bonuses”. How can that be when so many hard working people are out of work and looking for something to pay their bills? Who the fuck is worth hundreds of thousands of dollars or more a year? What do these people DO to deserve this sort of income when the country is teetering on economic disaster? I am offended.

And let’s not look at this along political party lines. As far as I’m concerned they have ALL fucked us. Republican or Democrat, they are equally responsible for this mess we’re in. Let’s stop with the ridiculous government salaries and benefit plans (why can’t they be expected to pay part of their benefit package – I’ve always had to, when I even GET benefits), let’s stop sending money to other countries, let’s stop taking in all of these immigrants when we can’t even support what we have already. Most of all, let’s stop this ridiculous party bickering and fucking FIX the problems.

And before anyone gets all politically correct on my ass about foreign aid and immigration, let me say that I am not a heartless bastard. I know there are people out there who need help. But we can’t even take care of ourselves right now, so we HAVE to do something and start here at home. At my last job I hired a young man who had just come here from Iraq. He was an amazing worker, pleasant, hardworking, fun to be around. He told some heart wrenching stories of life in Iraq. I’d hire him again in a second. But that doesn’t change my feelings – we need to do something to stem the tide of bodies pouring into an already weak and damaged economy.

I’m reminded of the 70’s. The economy was in the toilet, gas was being rationed, inflation was through the roof, jobs were scarce, and we were just coming off Vietnam and all of that ugliness. And from out of the ashes of that time rose the first wave of punks; youth disenchanted and angry with government and corporate greedy and dishonesty and with them the music of anger and revolution. I’m waiting for that phoenix to rise again as we dance on the edge of chaos and frustration runs rampant. I find myself – nearing 50 – listening to that old punk and feeling the anger grow inside me. I’m frustrated and disgusted. I want to scream. To tell someone – anyone – what I think and how I’m feeling. I’m fed up with government waste and corporate greed. I’m tired of seeing company CEOs with their insulting salaries flaunting their wealth while the regular guy in the street has to scrounge and scrimp to pay his bills and feed his family. And that goes for these mindless “reality tv stars” as well. It’s no wonder other countries hate us when we glorify such brainless, talentless scumbags and raise idiocy up to celebrity status.

Maybe I’ll get into politics. I know a LOT of people feel the same way I do. But I have one huge strike against me – I’m too honest. I’m brutally, unapologetically honest. And despite what we might say and think, I guess at the end of the day we don’t WANT honesty in politics. If we did why would these douchebags keep getting into office?

It’s time for a change: a revolution. I’m heading toward old-fart status, but goddamn it, I’m ready to make a stand. To protest. To have my voice heard. I’m fed up.

Sigh….

Until next time from the House of Secrets,

Well they blew the horns
And the walls came down
They'd all been warned
And the walls came down
They just stood there laughing
They're not laughing anymore
The walls came down
Sanctuary fades
congregation splits
Nightly military raids
The congregation splits
It's a song of assassins
Ringin' in your ears
We got terrorist thinking
Playing on fears
Well they blew the horns
And the walls came down
They'd all been warned
But the walls came down
I don't think there are any Russians
And there ain't no Yanks
Just corporate criminals
playin' with tanks

Move Along – There’s Nothing to see Here

2011-09-22T17:33:00.002-04:00

Or at least that’s how I feel. It must be something endemic with creative folk: depression and moodiness. Maybe its post-project depression? I’m nearing the end of a biggish project for Chaosium Inc’s Call of Cthulhu RPG – a follow-up to my apparently incredibly popular and successful Malleus Monstrorum – Malleus Monstrorum 2 (yes, a very original title. Do you like it? I came up with it all by myself!). Its looking like it’s going to top out just under 100,000 words. Not bad for under a month’s worth of work. I’m also putting the last touches on my latest anthology, Horror for the Holidays, and should have that one done and off to my publisher in a few weeks. And I’m finishing up my own latest story, “Mother Blood” for an as-yet unannounced anthology of stories about the undead (or is it the living-challenged now? Political correctness and all….). And I have a couple other invites to write for anthologies. AND, there are one or two hush-hush things in the works that, if they come to fruition, are going to be absolutely fantastic! It’s actually a pretty good time for me, writing-wise, anyway.

So why do I feel like shit? Sitting here, blasting The B-52’s through my headphones, pecking at keys and wondering what the hell I’m going to actually SAY here. It’s been a month – I have to post something. Here I thought this blog thing would be easy. I mean, I’m a writer for fuck sake. Just WRITE something. Were that it was so easy. More than a writer, I’m a slave to my raw emotions, and they tend toward the darker end of the spectrum. I’m just not a butterfly and sunshine person. I lurk in the shadows on the dark side of this mortal coil. Don’t get me wrong – it has served me well, but it’s been a lifelong struggle to keep in check. And sometimes a little more slips out of the box than I’m ready to see, and it’s a fight to get it back in.

Chronic depression has haunted me since childhood. Why? I don’t know, exactly. I’d guess it to be a cocktail of nature and nurture. I know medically that I have a hormone imbalance. My brain doesn’t produce enough of something. Couple that with abandonment issues, an obsessive personality and severe social anxiety and I guess it makes for a sloppy mess. A therapist once told me that depression was like a hole in the sidewalk; you walk down the street and you fall into the hole. The idea is to walk down the street, see the hole and to walk around it. The issues don’t ever go away, but to conquer them is to be free of them. For a long while I not only walked down that street but I leapt into that hole with both feet. I tried medicinal assistance and while it “took the edge off”, it pretty much killed my creativity: I didn’t write for YEARS. So I had to wonder if I had only two choices – be creative and suffer and look for tall buildings to jump off or “take the edge off” and never really feel anything or write again. It took some fine tuning, but we finally got it down to a happy balance; I managed to finally slay my biggest demon a few years ago, and the freedom it brought is indescribable.

So, where’s this all going? I have no idea. Oh yeah, this all started with the topic of writing and why creative folk are tortured. I suppose to create you have to be able to tap into something deep within yourself. And maybe those best suited to the task are the unbalanced and disturbed… or “special”, as I think we’re supposed to be called today! It takes someone strong enough to really dig in and root around in some dark, nasty stuff. Not that we CAN’T do the rainbows and butterflies thing; I like a pretty waterfall or sunset as much as the next guy. And don’t even get me started on kittens! But it seems to be the darkness that offers the most creativity. Maybe it isn’t really the darkness itself, but the person’s ability to face and conquer it? The alternative is pretty bleak. When someone finds out I write horror and asks me “where do you get your ideas from?” (clichéd, but it DOES happen), I answer them “I get my ideas the same place you get yours – from my mind.” The difference, I guess, is just in the way I see things. So I guess if I have to suffer for my art it’s worth it – so long as I remember that I’m the Master over my own Darkness.

Until next time from the House of Secrets,

The places I stalk

Where no man would walk

The king of suspense forever.

I'll turn my home,

I'll turn my home into Bates Motel

Let's Do the Time Warp

2011-08-29T22:41:00.001-04:00

I'm from another world. There. I said it.

Well, maybe I should say I'm from another time? It’s surreal how time creeps by.

I remember gathering in front of the neighbor’s black and white television, the room illuminated in silver and grey as we watched a man step on the moon. Of course I didn’t appreciate the historical significance of the thing at the time – I was five.

I remember the smell of Play-doh. It smelled like fortune cookies, or so I’d discover later in life. I miss Play-Doh. But does it still smell like fortune cookies? I mean, they change everything to make things “safer.” They ruin everything. I’m just sayin’.

When I was a kid in the 60’s and 70’s we had toys made of metal with sharp edges: cars and firetrucks were METAL, not plastic. And things that got hot: the Creepy Crawler Thingmaker machine got hot. I mean it got HOT. You had to squirt Plastigoop into a metal mold and then put the metal mold into this HOT tray that cooked the goo. Then you removed the hot metal mold with metal tongs and dropped it into a water bath to cool off so you could peel the little rubbery bugs out of the molds. I burned myself often. And god knows what the hell was actually IN Plastigoop?

Mr. Potato Head – and his pals Pete the Pepper, Katie Carrot and Mr. Soda Pop Head – had hard, sharp, LITTLE pieces that you stuck into him to make goofy faces. Very small, swallowable pieces.

But somehow, despite the apparent mine field I walked through each day of my childhood, I managed to survive. I wonder how many kids died from 3^rd degree Thingmaker burns or chocked to death on a Mr. Potato Head eye? Oh! And back then Mr. Potato Head SMOKED! He came with a pipe!

And whatever became of Jello-O 1 2 3 or Funny Face drink mixes? Funny Face was originally sweetened with calcium cyclamate, but calcium cyclamate was one of the victims of the sweetener witch hunts of the 60’s and 70’s. I guess it caused bladder cancer in rats. But how often do you see rats drinking artificially-sweetened drinks in the wild? I’m just sayin’.

Oh, and smoking. Everyone smoked. A ride in the car (which didn’t have backseat seatbelts, by the way) was an adventure in chemical warfare when my grandfather was driving. At least he’d flick his ashes out the window… of course, they just blew back in and into the backseat and all over us. But that was the way it was.

I remember rushing back to my grandparent’s house to watch President Nixon’s resignation speech. Of course I didn’t appreciate the historical significance of the thing at the time – I was ten.

I didn’t really get the whole thing with President Nixon. I mean, he seemed like a nice man to me – he’d been to see the Chinese and brought back pandas. How bad can a man with pandas be? I’m just sayin’.

All in the Family was remarkable, although I didn’t realize this until I watched it again in the new millennium. Though not nearly as extreme or venomous as Archie Bunker, words like “colored” and “chink” were used in my house. I remember. There was always talk of finding some aunt and uncle’s hooded robes stashed in a trunk.

But somehow, despite growing up in the tail end of an era where those words were commonplace and acceptable, I saw no difference between people. Even back then I didn’t understand why diversity was BAD. I still don’t. But I appreciate Archie Bunker and the lessons he taught in spite of himself. I’m just sayin’.

I remember the Iran hostage crisis. It all seemed stupid to me. Of course by then I did appreciate the historical significance of the thing – I was fifteen. Childhood innocence was gone. The world was hostile and dangerous. Santa Claus was dead. There was no Easter Bunny. How had the time crept by so quickly? So unnoticed?

I remember when “simple” computers filled entire rooms. When “mobile” phones were the size of cereal boxes. I remember cassette tapes and records and even 8-track tapes. I remember the first “computer games” played by hooking a contraption up to your television and watching squares bounce back and forth between pixilated “paddles”. Even then I don’t think anyone could have seen what was coming; how we would soon become a cyber-world, connected across continents, microseconds to send messages half way around the world, yet so disconnected and isolated. I’m just sayin’.

Today we’re safe from danger – Big Brother watches out for us, taking the sharp edges off toys, taking away things that get hot, making everything safer, simpler, dumber. We self-edit and kneel at the altar of Political Correctness -- lest the simplest, most innocent word offend -- making everything safer, simpler, dumber. Computers take care of us – our finances, our schedules, our personal information, all of our secrets -- our souls -- making everything safer, simpler, dumber. What a utopia we live in. I’m grateful for the advances in medicine and technology and social thinking – don’t get me wrong. I just wonder if we can’t have some of the innocence back. I’m just sayin’.

Until next time from the House of Secrets,

The ice age is coming, the sun's zooming in
Meltdown expected, the wheat is growing thin
Engines stop running, but I have no fear
'Cause London is drowning, and I live by the river

I’ll give you fish, I’ll give you candy: The B-52’s and me.

2011-08-06T18:08:00.000-04:00

So as anyone who follows me on Facebook knows, The B-52's played a concert in my home town last night -- three blocks from my house, in fact! I have a 30-year relationship with the band which I revel in. They have been an inspiration to me in ways I can't even express. I can honestly say, without exaggeration, that they changed my life -- I might even get as melodramatic as to say that they saved my life, because I can't imagine what unhappy path my life would have taken had they not come into it.

Back a few years ago I was on a thing historians call MySpace, and there I composed a proto-blog about this very subject, which I lazily copy and paste here. I don't know as I would phrase it any differently, anyway:

"I’ll give you fish. I’ll give you candy. I’ll give you everything I have in my hand". So said The B-52’s in Give Me Back My Man way back in 1980. What the hell does that mean? Nearly 30 years later I still don’t know, yet instinctively I GET IT.

There are those defining moments in your life when something inside you changes. Your first love. Your first sexual partner. The first death of a loved one. Your significant firsts. I count hearing The B-52’s for the first time way back in the fall of 1981 as one of my significant firsts. I was away from home and family for the first time, living in a dorm at college, meeting all of these new people and discovering this weird wide world for really the first time.

I grew up very sheltered and alone. I didn’t go to parties or dances, I didn’t drink, never smoked, never tried drugs, never explored my sexuality. I had only a handful of people I could truly call friends, and they were outcasts like myself. I was the typical geek, outcast, loser loner. And growing up in middle class white bread America in the 70’s and early 80’s didn’t help. I’d never met a Jewish person or an openly gay person or even anyone from another country other than from neighboring Canada. There were less than ten non-white kids in my class. I’d never been away from home without the family.

That all changed the Tuesday after Labor Day in September 1981. I packed up my room and my life and went off to a State school to study English. I was terrified. There were all these people there. All these DIFFERENT people. And as I settled into my little antiseptic room that I had to share three ways I heard all this different music. And The B-52’s was among the first I heard -- one of my roommates put on the band’s first, self-titled album. It was a magical moment. This music was odd and different and weird and bizarre and wonderful. The lyrics made no sense, the music was layered with weird sounds, and the vocals were strange but harmonic. The band were like cartoon characters with their weird clothes and outlandish looks.Yet suddenly it all made sense to me. I understood. I just UNDERSTOOD it. It spoke to me -- to ME. To the outcast, loner, loser geek. I had an epiphany and my life would never be the same.

I knew of the whole punk/new wave movement and had heard of The B-52’s, of course, but that was all stuff from bizzaroworld. The few kids in high school who were into that stuff were the artsy weirdos, even more outcast than me. Punk and new wave may have been a way of LIFE in places like New York or L.A. or London, but in Lockport it was just so much nonsense.

Within a few weeks I was replacing my Barry Manilow records with The B-52’s, DEVO, The Ramones, The Clash, and all sorts of other weird, raw STUFF. I drank it in, heady and wonderful. An entirely different world opened up before my eyes. I started adorning myself proudly with safety pins and donning outrageous clothes: tuxedo coats with tails over some band t-shirt covered in safety pins and band pins. My hair would find streaks of black or fire engine red in it and bits of makeup were not unknown from time to time.

This -- THIS was the land of the outcasts and loners and geeks and the disenchanted. The punk and wave kids in the urban centers like New York and London had lots to be pissed off about. We weren’t pissed off, we were just bored and tired of cookie-cutter America. We wanted to express our uniqueness. We wanted to be noticed and puzzled over. We wanted to be loathed by the frat jocks and preppy princesses. We were sticking our collective middle finger up at safe, white, bland, mindless, middle class America. We would be lemmings no more.

Shortly thereafter I was drunk for the first time, tried pot for the first time and was friends with such a rich and diverse group of kids that people back home were shocked and seriously concerned about me. It was wonderfully liberating.

I flunked out of that first year of college, but it was worth every cent because I learned more about myself and life than I could ever have done at home. The following year newborn MTV showcased all sorts of oddball, artsy and wonderful British groups like The Thomspon Twins, Adam and the Ants, A Flock of Seagulls and a legion of other new wave bands influenced more by art and fashion than by anger and frustration. Punk wasn’t dead yet, but it was in very ill health. The army of new wave bands swept over America and changed the face of American tv, fashion and music. Being the greedy self-centric melting pot that we are, America eventually fully embraced the whole new wave movement and made it safe and sterile. It was pretty much over by then.

I stopped wearing the odd clothes and coloring strips of my hair. I got on coarse toward a career and a future. My musical and social preferences changed and adapted and expanded. But I always carried that first early punk and new wave spark in my soul. Today, as an ever-crumbling fossil, I live my life by the precepts of those heady, informative punk years. I embrace everyone, regardless of race or color or status or sexuality. I do not judge my peers. I do not accept blind faith or sheepishly following of the status quo. I try to look at every side of every situation. I look for the odd and unusual in life. I take art and music and literature into my life as much as I can. I speak honestly and with as much passion as I can for those things I believe in. I fight for the underdog and the outsider. I overlook mistakes and pasts. I accept everyone as he or she is, try to help but never to change. I love as openly and widely as I can. I deal with problems and people as soon and as directly as I can.

And now as I head toward the other end of my life I thank and am grateful to a weird and wacky group of outcasts and losers and weirdos who formed a little party band back in the late 70’s and who would touch my life and my soul like no one else. And I take comfort in the fact that they are growing old with me -- The B-52’s still record and perform, but they’ve grown older, fatter, slower. Yet their love and lust for life continues. They’ve avoided being sucked into the ever-so bland mainstream and continue to play by their own rules. And I still GET it, even if it makes no sense.

This is the first time in several years that I've read that and it still resonates with me, and I'm actually impressed at how-well written that is! The anticipation and build-up to last night's show reminded me a lot of my youth, and I smiled. A lot. I played a lot of The B-52's music over the past few weeks. And I smiled. A lot. I stood in a crowd of thousands last night enjoying the weird and whacky music and show of The B-52's. And I smiled. A lot. I don't normally smile a whole lot, so its been really nice. I feel reconnected with something very special in the core of myself. Its nice to GET IT again.

Until next time from the Hosue of Secrets,
Planet Claire has pink air,
All the trees are red,
No one ever dies there,
No one has a head....

Post-Project Depression

2011-08-04T11:51:00.000-04:00

I wonder if other authors suffer from post-project depression? Last night I finished something I have been working on for over 10 months and today I'm feeling a bit lost. The thing was beginning to become a real monkey on my back, but I found as I neared the end my enthusiasm and excitement for the project actually GREW. So I finished it with a flourish, dumped all the pieces into a single file, hit SEND and off it went. Yay! But now, although I have other things I have committed to and should be working on, I don't know what to do with myself!

So, what are these other obligations of which I speak? Can't say other than one is an undead theme and one a sort of cyberpunk thing. I have a strong, solid idea for the undead story, and should have started working on it already. Maybe today.... The cyberpunk thing not so much. This is brand new territory for me, so its going to take a little more effort and thought. I have a steampunk idea that I've been playing with for a long time, but that isn't quite the same thing, is it? I'm thinking maybe of returning to one of the baddies from an earlier story of mine for the cyberpunk story. I think it would work great, but who knows? We'll see. Also, it would be fun to do something completely different with something I've already done successfully once (why do I suddenly hear John Cleese saying "And now for something complete different. The penguin on top of your television is about to explode"?). There is also at least one other story I should write very soon for a book I REALLY, REALLY want to be in. I've already submitted something which I like a LOT, but I'm not completely confident its what the editor is looking for.

The problem with all of these commitments I have is that writing is an odd thing for me. I'm not prolific, and I have no sort of "work ethic" when it comes to writing. I can't force myself to just sit down and write. I envy those authors who can make themselves sit at a keyboard every day, on a regular schedule, and treat it like a JOB. I can't do that. It has to "come" to me. And my muse is a fickle bitch! Sometimes she burns hot and hard, and other times she's colder that an Eskimo's ass! (With my sincerest apologies to native peoples of the far north!) Some days I'm lucky to peck out a dozen coherent words, but then other days its like I'm possessed by a spirit and doing some weird automatic writing shit! Those days! Those glorious days I can crank out hundreds or even thousands of words without pause or conscious effort. And if an idea just isn't working for me after a couple tries I generally consign it to a oblivion with a tap of the DELETE key or by dumping it into a file on my computer labeled FICTION IN PROGRESS. Yeah, and there's stuff in there dating back to the 1980's, including an ill-fated vampire novel which I started BEFORE the big vampire craze of the 80's and 90's. I'm so SICK of the little bloodsucking fuckers now I'll likely never touch the story again. And I think it was a damn good one, and a different take still on the vampire. I resigned my vampire novel to its fate years ago when I saw -- honestly -- a book in a bookshop about vampire twin detectives! Yes! A piece of shit like that actually got PUBLISHED, and presumably PURCHASED (at least by the author's mom and siblings). Jump forward a couple decades and we have angsty, glittery vampires and I know for sure that its game over. Put a fucking STAKE in them and turn the lights off on your way out!

But I digress. Appropriate, maybe, as I feel like my life right now is one big digression. I don't know. Maybe that's a good thing? All I know is that I should get working on my undead story and thinking about my cyberpunk story, and do something else for that OTHER book I REALLY, REALLY want to be in. Wish it was easier, but then if it were I guess I'd be writing about angsty, glittery vampires.

Until next time from the House of Secrets,
I'll give you fish,
I'll give you candy,
I'll give you everything I have in my hands.

50 Things About Me

2011-07-24T13:21:00.002-04:00

So, in considering what to blog next I came up with the idea to make a list of a bunch of random facts about myself that most people probably don’t know (and likely don’t care – so here’s your chance to leave…!). This is just going to be just sort of off the cuff stuff, as it comes to me and in no particular order or significance. Maybe it’ll give some insight into the workings of my fevered brain (please just don’t use any of it against me in a court of law!).

1. I share birthdays with THE vampire, himself, Bella Lugosi. We were both born on October 20, although he was born a couple years before me.

2. On my 4^th birthday, October 20 1967, the infamous Patterson Bigfoot video footage was shot. Must be something about that as I am a life-long Bigfoot fanatic!

3. My favorite food in the world is Chinese. Could eat it every day. Steamed dumplings and chicken in garlic sauce are my top faves.

4. I’m certified in Gourmet Chinese cooking.

5. I was a pen-pal of serial killer John Wayne Gacy.

6. I have cooked for some famous people over the years: Jamie Lee Curtis, Charles Nelson Riley, David Johansen/Buster Poindexter, The Goo Goo Dolls, the doctor from The Love Boat.

7. I’m an Anglophile, loving all things British.

8. I’m addicted to scones like crack. Love the things.

9. I always have chocolate chip cookies in the house – nothing better than chocolate chip cookies and ICE cold milk.

10. I have an obsessive personality, so can’t get into anything half way – it’s all in or nothing.

11. Autumn is my favorite season, and Halloween my favorite holiday.

12. I have this obsessive “thing” about jack o’lanterns!

13. I haven’t eaten steak in over 25 years. I just don’t eat the stuff.

14. I am absolutely a “cat person”.

15. One of my favorite musicians is Gary Numan (of 1980’s synth fame). We’ve corresponded and I based one of my earlier published stories on a bunch of his lyrics.

16. I’m a “Ripperologist”: a fan/student of Jack the Ripper, although I have no theory or thoughts on who the Ripper actually was.

17. I ALMOST had the pleasure of running a Call of Cthulhu game for Robert Bloch and Gahan Wilson.

18. The issue of Deathrealm Magazine which featured several of my poems was banned in Canada because of a “disturbing” cover image.

19. I’ve been fascinated by carnivorous plants since I read an article about them in Ranger Rick magazine in the second grade (circa 1968ish), and have grown the weird little things on and off since my high school days.

20. The first H.P. Lovecraft story I read many, many years ago was “The Whisperer in Darkness”, and it’s still among my favorites to this day.

21. I saw Andrew Lloyd Webber’s The Phantom of the Opera on Broadway in New York City on Halloween night.

22. I saw Evil Dead: The Musical opening weekend in New York City. I was thrilled to run into Tom Sullivan there and reminisce about the “old days” of Call of Cthulhu and working for Chaosium.

23. I want very much to believe in the existence of UFOs, Bigfoot and other cryptic things, but the older I get and the longer the searches go on without REAL evidence, the more I have to admit that such things are likely folk tales.

24. I HATE reality TV. I’m fed up with all the wanna-bes who live out their train wrecks of a life for the entire world to see. Go away Snookie!

25. I obsessively LOVE books, and the day I switch over to some electronic “book” is the day you pry a REAL book from my cold, dead hands!

26. There are books in just about every room of my house – I have thousands of books in my collection/library.

27. John Carpenter is my favorite film maker. I can watch Prince of Darkness or Big Trouble in Little China or The Thing or any of his other amazing films over and over.

28. Although a HUGE Bigfoot fan, I hated that Finding Bigfoot show! That was the most unlikeable, uncharismatic group of “investigators” I have ever seen. Always like Monster Quest and even cheesy Bigfoot movies (Boggy Creek, anyone?), but I hated this show with a passion.

29. I’m a reluctant fan of the CW’s Supernatural. An old pal got me into it last year. I caught up with the first bunch of season on DVD and loved them – great stuff. But then they got all into this heaven and hell and demons and angels stuff, and it became more of a soap opera sort of thing. Not digging it as much this past season, and I don’t hold out much hope for next season. Favorite episode, though, is “A Very Supernatural Christmas”.

30. I’m an old school punk/new waver. I was into it the first time around with bands like The Clash, The Ramones, The B-52’s. I hate what is passed off as “punk” and “alternative” now.

31. I played arcade games with one of the Thompson Twins and some band members before a show on their first American tour. I was at the far back of the club they were playing where the vending machines and games were and they just wandered in.

32. I’ve never had a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

33. I always lose when I play board games.

34. I’ve been to H.P. Lovecraft’s grave twice.

35. I stopped drinking on August 4, 1989 and have been sober since.

36. My favorite hotel is The Sofitel in New York City. I’d live there if I could. The beds there are so comfortable that I purchased a set of bedding for my own bed at home!

37. A psychic once told me that I have lived 22 lives.

38. I don’t own a cell phone! Hard to believe, but true.

39. I didn’t cry during E.T. (a friend told me that if you didn’t cry while watching E.T. you were a horrible person.).

40. I’m afraid of heights and snakes. I don’t mind spiders or rats or bugs, but wanna see me jump on a chair and scream like a little girl? Bring out a snake!

41. I like Barry Manilow music. HEY! Don’t laugh – we all have our secret shame!

42. Although I’m a chef by profession, my favorite foods are homey comfort foods: meatloaf, pasta, mac & cheese. I hate prissy, pretentious foo-foo food AND chefs.

43. I love Gordon Ramsay (no-nonsense tell-it-like-it-is) and Julia Child (what can you say about Julia?) – I pretty much detest every other “celebrity chef”.

44. An editor bestowed upon me the everlasting moniker of “King of the Assholes” many years ago. I DO live up to the title.

45. I’m bone-crushingly brutally honest. I don’t try to hurt feelings, but I don’t play games or blow smoke up anyone’s ass, either. A waitress once asked me if an apron made her look fat, to which I responded “no, the fat makes you look fat” (and I’m a BIG boy, myself, so I’m not mocking fat people – but she asked a stupid question. Why DO women ask men if this or that makes them look fat, anyway?). If you don’t want to hear the truth, don’t ask me my opinion.

46. I want to be Grace Jones when I grow up! (Yeah, I don’t know – just something I used to say….)

47. What I don’t know I make up. Another favorite saying which I stole from the Go-Go’s.

48. I want a British red phone booth – like a real one – for my house.

49. I don’t like coffee – love the smell but hate the taste. So people buy me coffee scented candles!

50. I’m near-agoraphobic. I rarely leave the house unless it’s to go to work, get groceries, or go to my mother’s for a visit and meal (yes, I’m a big fat momma’s boy – she’s my best pal). If I were financially set and someone would bring food to the house, and so long as I had my computer, my cats and my books, I’d be happy to never step foot outside The House of Secrets again.

Until next time,

Stand and deliver.

Hotter Than Satan's Balls!

2011-07-21T21:57:00.000-04:00

Okay, so most of the country is suffering from this ungodly heat, but I'm going to chime in and say that I freaking HATE it! Its miserable. I'm basically a North Pole -- if there were a place where it was autumn and winter year round I'd move there and be happy. Luckily (?!) I'm presently "between jobs" (that's unemployed for anyone not sharp enough to catch my subtle hint) because the LAST place I want to be when its 90+ degrees out is in a kitchen where the temperature is 20+ degrees higher.

So I promised to talk about what I was working on and so forth, so here's a little peek:

-- I'm putting the finishing copy edits on a book of Call of Cthulhu scenarios set in New York City called Tales of the Sleepless City. Miskatonic River Press will be publishing this one probably around the end of the year. I'm also writing a short adventure for the book called "Children of the Night".

-- I'm in the process of reading for my next anthology, Horror for the Holidays. As the title suggests, each story takes place on some holiday. This one is just about done -- I just have a few more slots to fill and I can choose my stories, assemble the book, and send it off for publication.
Miskatonic River Press will also be publishing this one, hopefully by the end of the year. Did I forget to mention that I'm the Vice President in Charge of Fiction for Miskatonic River Press?

-- I have a short story waiting to be read and considered for inclusion in an Arkham House book to be titled Arkham Nightmares.

-- I'm working on a story to submit to Joe Pulver for his forthcoming The Grimscribe’s Puppets, a Thomas Ligotti tribute anthology.

-- I'm working on a story to submit to a forthcoming anthology about the undead. Can't say anything else about that one.

-- I'll soon start work on assembling the stories for Wilum Pugmire's The Strange Dark One: Tales of Nyarlathotep. Another MRP book, this one we hope to have out in the first quarter of next year.

-- I have also recently struck a deal with an up-and-coming author for his first collection that we'll be doing in 2013. Can't give much away about this one, but if you follow other blogs you can put the pieces together for yourself.

-- And for Call of Cthulhu fans -- here's a scoop -- I've been in talks with Chaosium about doing a Malleus Monstrorum Companion. This one is still in the planning stages, so I'll update as required.

Gosh! That looks like an awful lot. I must be busy! Now if I could only get this writing thing to PAY OFF. Unfortunately, it doesn't bring in enough to even cover living in a cardboard box under a bridge (well, not a high class, luxury box to which I've become accustomed, anyway!). Eh, the House of Secrets would miss me.

Until next time,

I feel a hot wind on my shoulder
And the touch of a world that is older....

Testing, testing... is this thing on?

2011-07-20T21:46:00.000-04:00

So I'm trying out this blog thing just to see what all the fuss is about. Its still early days, and I haven't figured out how the hell to DO anything here yet, so it'll be a learning experience!

Anyway, my intent is to share bits of random nonsense with any readers I may happen to attract or fool into coming over here! I'll talk about my writing, what I'm working on both as a writer and editor, things that inspire me or piss me off, punk and new wave music of the 80's, some chef stuff (I'm a trained Executive Chef by profession), various authors whom I admire and love (or hate and loathe -- depending on my mood), and just general inane thoughts.

I guess appropriately enough is the explanation for my blog's name: I own a big old Colonial house in Lockport, New York that I've taken great effort (not to mention time and money) to try to bring back to its former glory. I love my home and its an extension of me. The land was parceled off by The Holland Land Company in 1822 and the house built in 1874. Its a beautiful beast with grand bones. I call it The House of Secrets -- a name that just came to me when I first moved in because I felt there was more to the place than meets the eye. In a future blog I'll go into some of the more interesting details of the place, like the Satanic altar that used to be in the basement, or the time I found all my shoes tied (but I live alone with two cats!).

But this, then is just the beginning. Until next time,

Unpleasant Dreams....